Robert Frost, Atomic Wedgie, Are You Kidding Me?
by WordArtisan
Summary: After finding out she'll have to go through six weeks of summer school with him, Max is determined to try and figure Zack out. Told from Max's POV, rated T for mild language and mentions of mature themes in later chapters. No flames, please. R&R. ch 3 up!
1. Atomic Wedgie

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_**Robert Frost, Atomic Wedgie, Are You Kidding Me?**_

_**By WordArtisan**_

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_A/N: I find Zack to be a character that can as easily be more deep than he lets on. The idea was to write a fanfiction from the POV of a person that's trying to figure him out, which turned out to be Max._

_This fanfic is really drabbly, taking place during the six weeks of summer school that we never really saw. It doesn't really comply with the episode, however. I'll say that it's the way I'd rewrite the whole summer school experience, and a few other episodes, to include Max. Max is very sarcastic in this fanfic, and cheesed off at the moment._

_The first part of the chapter doesn't really flow seamlessly, it's just bits and pieces of the beginning of the episode that Max notes in particular. Also, I might not get the quotes exactly right—even though I saw the episode today, I have a horrible short-term memory. And I can't clarify who says what (not because I can't remember, but because of the style), not that you can't figure that out._

_I'm trying to improve my writing. Please list any corrections in your review—don't flame me, but tell me what you think. This chapter's kind of slow, but I think I stayed relatively IC._

_-WordArtisan-_

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"If I sit in the front, the teacher will call me. But if I sit in the back and there's a fire, I might not make it out. But if I sit in near the window, a large bird could swoop in and carry me away."

"Good luck with that."

Selfish.

"You're in my seat!"

"Who're you?"

"Brick."

"Is that because your face is all red and shaped like a rectangle?"

Smartmouth.

"Well, well, well…who do we have here? And you are…?"

"Shy. Painfully shy. Don't look at me!"

Egocentric.

Sassy, arrogant, self-absorbed. Zack had definitely lowered his standards since I'd seen him last, and I wasn't happy about it. Not that I disliked him, or anything—it's just, I was really disappointed at the moment.

"Hello, class. I'm Ms. Bird. That's Buh-urd. Bird." She wrote her name on the board and opened the book in her hands. "Today we'll start with some rhymes about summer."

There was the dull roar of 'Huh?' across the desks.

"Oh, I'm sorry—_rhymy-words _about the_ hot time_."

Then a dull roar of oh's and ah's.

Ms. Bird cleared her throat. "'Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?' Now, who do you think Shakespeare is addressing? Brick?"

"Uh…false?"

I slapped my forehead. What a dummy.

"No. Anyone else?"

Naturally, Zack raised his hand. "Um, I think Shakespeare's hittin' on a chick, y'know, telling her she's hot like a summer's day."

"No. Wait a second…that's right!"

Well, at least Zack wasn't as hopeless as Brick, I'd hand him that.

Why was I here, anyway? Oh, yeah—it was Brittany's fault, as usual.

Brittany hung out in the teachers' lounge with her older brother after school, and I had a bad habit of really ticking her off. So it was only a matter of time before something like this happened. She hacked into the computers, changed the grade on my dreaded counts-for-fifty-percent-of-your-grade English term paper, and landed me with a big fat F and a month and a half of summer school. I hadn't been doing so great, anyway, but I might've been able to scrape by if Brittany hadn't pulled another stunt.

A few seats down I heard Mark coughing. It sounded a lot like 'nerd'.

The bell rang. "There's the bell. If anyone needs help opening their pudding, ask Zack." As soon as Ms. Bird was out of earshot, everybody got up and started moving in towards Zack's desk, just a couple of rows ahead of mine.

"Hey, guys…anyone wanna share a ham sandwich…?"

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"_I'll take that as a no_!"

There he was, hung up on the coat rack by his underwear. If I was a really mean person, I probably would've taken a picture rather than laugh.

"A little help here?" he called.

"Hold on a second…" I gripped the back of one of the chairs and dragged it over. "There. Stand on it and unhook yourself."

"Y'know, you could've done a little more than watch when I was actually _getting _the atomic wedgie."

"Well, in case you hadn't noticed, there's a classroom full of the other kids and only one of me," I retorted. "Maybe you could try thanking me for hanging around in the first place," I added, crossing my arms.

I walked over to my desk to pitch my empty lunch bag and toss my backpack over one shoulder. Zack jumped down off of the chair and started yanking at his pants like a five-year-old that'd been sitting for an hour. I held back snickers. "Why don't we do anything, anymore? I mean, like me and you and Cody used to do in seventh grade," I said abruptly. _Oh crap, did I just say that?_

Zack got a really thoughtful expression on his face. "I dunno…I think it started when they split up the basketball team."

I mentally reminded myself to shut up while I was ahead—I could beg off of that one, but if I opened my big mouth again I might say something like 'I miss you' that'd get me into real trouble.

"Is there any part of my lunch left?" asked Zack.

"Nope, they stole it and split it amongst themselves," I said. "Listen, I've gotta get going, my mom wants me home early to meet her new boyfriend Vick."

"See ya, I guess," smiled Zack, reaching for his own backpack.

I wiggled my fingers in a half-wave and set off down the hall. Zack would seem like the simplest person in the world to figure out, but sometimes it made me wonder: who was the real Zack, the one that'd smarted off to Brick and tried to hit on Hailey, or the nice one that'd been on our date in seventh grade and traded woodshop projects with Cody? Call me an idiot, but it seemed like he had a virtual tragedy mask and comedy mask sometimes.

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	2. Dad

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_**Robert Frost, Atomic Wedgie, Are You Kidding Me?**_

_**By WordArtisan**_

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_A/N: This chapter is basically thoughts. It is very slow, and may not be the best thing, but it'll branch off into something bigger. Thanks to Grey Mustang and The Official Me for the story alerts! _

_As for the song quote at the end of the chapter…might not go with the chapter, but…I dunno…popped into my head. Thought it sort of fit._

_This chapter will be sort of down. The next one will be happier._

_-WordArtisan-_

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_**Disclaimer: I don't own The Suite Life of Zack & Cody, but I do own Chris, Vick, and Max's parents.**_

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"Hey, Max? Let me in."

"Fine. Whatever."

Chris opened the door and poked her nose inside. There I was, on the bed, picking out some tune I'd heard on the radio on the unplugged electric guitar that I hadn't pulled out since the last time I got severely ticked off.

"About the whole strawberry punch thing…" she began.

"Don't even go there."

"I was about to say, that it didn't actually make a whole lot of waves," she continued in that slightly eye-rollingly exasperated but still big sister-type patient tone. "Vick was very cool about it. Besides, you didn't do any real damage—well, except to Vick's dry cleaning bill. And he's _not _dumping Mom, in case you were wondering," she added, putting her hands on her hips.

Chris had a knack for reading your thoughts just by your tone of voice or your facial expression, or whatever, I don't remember what she said exactly.

"Sort of," I said, not looking up from my guitar. The whole meal had been a complete fiasco. Vick and I weren't getting along so well, anyways (probably because I was being stonier than Mom's garden gnomes)—then I attempted to carry in a humongous tray of deviled eggs, and I'm talking a tray to rival a card table, tripped over my own two feet, sent the deviled eggs flying everywhere (including smashed into Vick's face), and bumped a big pitcher of bright red strawberry punch with my elbow, spilling the whole of its contents into Vick's lap and all down his shirtfront. Tooth. Curling. Embarrassment.

"Is Mom mad at me?" I asked, dreading what the answer might be.

"Mom? Heck no, she thought it was funny as everything, you know she did," smiled Chris. Her real name was Christine Nita, but that's a real mouthful. That's why she told everybody to call her Chris. You might get away with calling her 'Christy', though.

Mom laughed from downstairs. "What's so funny?" I asked on impulse.

"Probably adult jokes," replied Chris, plopping down beside me on the bed. Then she frowned. "Seems like Mom really likes this one," she sighed. My mom had been playing the field since I was twelve, and after a two year-long montage of dates she'd decided to settle on this dude. Geez, I sound sarcastic. "I gotta go, sport." Chris ruffled my hair and set off down the hall.

I started plunking on that guitar again, bored out of my brain and…sad? It was true that I didn't like Vick. He was too…oh, who am I kidding? He was great for Mom. I was just ticked because he wasn't my dad.

Dad and Mom had been separated for as long as I could remember. I'm going to cut to the chase and not mince words: it was upsetting, to go to school every day and see kids being dropped off by their dads, when mine was all the way down in Tennessee just to get away from my mom. There wasn't anybody to talk to about it, either. I couldn't talk to Mom—I've tried, and she just changes the subject, because her and Dad hate each other. I could talk to Chris about it, but she was almost nuts with high school and her day job and everything else to juggle, and during summer she went on all kinds of trips with her friends. A couple of years ago, I _almost _talked to Zack about it…but then things got awkward. There went my only chance to talk to someone in the same situation.

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"'Two roads diverged in a yellow wood'. Now, from the first line, can anyone tell me what season it is?" asked Ms. Bird slowly, sounding like she wanted to crawl under her desk and never come out.

"Paprika?" piped up Brick. I leaned my head on my hand and rolled my eyes.

"_Season_, not _seasoning_," sighed Ms. Bird. "Anyone else? How about you, Zack?" she added fondly, actually smiling for once. Everyone turned their heads to stare at him.

"Baseball season?" suggested Zack. He glanced around the class, laughing nervously. Everybody else was laughing along with him, except me.

"No. It's autumn."

"Really? That must mean summer school's over!" More laughs. He was really on a roll. "Word Bird. I'm a poet and didn't know it. I can make a rhyme any time." You go for it, Zack—ride that popularity for all it's worth. I shook my head at him, jaw set. Talk about giving in to peer pressure.

"Me too. Did I mention you have detention?" retorted Ms. Bird. The bell rang. All of the students stampeded out the door; I'm not sure, but I think there was some bizarre force of gravity pulling me with them.

I grabbed a hold of one of the lockers in the hall and broke free of the crowd, panting.

"Oh, hey," a female voice said above me. I looked up.

"Hi, Carey." Am I the only one who calls her friends' parents by their first name? Hope not.

"I never see you around anymore," she continued.

"Well, y'know, I'm…busy…a lot, with the basketball team, and stuff, y'know how it goes," I laughed nervously. It's official: I'm terrible at lying.

Carey frowned. "Well, I gotta go, I'll see you around," she smiled, waving.

"…_what got into you?"_

I heard Ms. Bird's voice from the room at the end of the hall and pricked my ears.

"_My underwear, and I didn't want it to happen again."_ Well, I could see where he was coming from, but that didn't mean that I wasn't still surprised at him, and a little cheesed.

I tied my teal hoodie around my waist and leaned against the lockers, arms crossed, trying to figure out this whole dern mess. My mind wandered from Dad to Mom to Vick to Zack and back to Dad. My watch went off. I stared at it, eyes wide—I was late for dinner. I snatched up my backpack and ran down the hall, head hurting.

_**It's a damn cold night**_

_**Trying to figure out this life**_

_**Won't you take me by the hand**_

_**Take me somewhere new**_

_**I don't know who you are**_

_**But I…I'm with you**_

Avril Lavigne, 'I'm With You'


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